


The Wardens, the War, and the Wager

by wombuttress



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 15:22:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9447353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wombuttress/pseuds/wombuttress
Summary: Tabris and Oghren bet their dwarven honor on which of their friends will get together. Peaceful vigilance can get boring, and what's life without the occasional shipping war?Meddling. Alcohol. Unsafe sexual practices. Suspected necrophilia. Unlicensed uses of magical vines. Escalation. Nate's hilarious tattoo. Warden stamina. And more!





	

It all began when the Warden-Commander and Oghren were drinking.

This was long before an incident that would occur near the end of the year, wherein the Warden-Commander would finally lose her patience, stage an intervention, have all the alcohol within a twenty mile radius poured out, and declare that Vigil’s Keep was now completely dry, For Your Own Damn Good, Oghren.

But prior to that, Warden-Commander and Oghren would frequently drink together. They’d play cards, talk about their families, and toss around gossip. The gossip was the second in importance only to the drinking.

Tonight’s topic was the projected romantic entanglements amongst their company. Oghren was married, Tabris was as good as married. (If Tabris was jokingly called the Mom-Commander for her fussing, overprotective nature and fervent devotion to everyone under her command, Alistair was jokingly called the Dad-Commander, for his terrible jokes and love of outdoor cooking). And so, vicariously living through the imagined romantic drama of their friends and colleagues was a great source of excitement for them.

“I saw Nathaniel hold the door for Velanna this afternoon,” Tabris said, putting down a card.

“Feh,” Oghren snorted. “Means nothing. Boy’s polite.”

“Oh,  I know,” Tabris said. “But you know what Velanna did after that? She actually said _thank you.”_

Oghren laughed. “Hoho, I’ll believe that when I hear it with my own nugwax-encrusted ears.  Ten gold says it’ll never happen again.”

“I need that ten gold to buy flasks,” Tabris complained. “Flasks are important.” Tabris currently had two and half of Vigil’s Keep’s vaults full of nothing but glass flasks, and accrued them more quickly than all the alchemists in the keep could fill them. _You never know!!!,_ she was known for manically pronouncing.

They drank and played their cards for a few rounds of silence.

“So, what?” Tabris said, “You don’t think it’s obvious that they’re going to get together?”

“Pft! Ears and cranknose Nate? I’ll be a nug’s uncle first.”

Tabris privately decided that if she and Alistair were to ever adopt a child, she’d name them Nug, just to make Oghren a nug’s uncle whether he liked it or not. “Oh, come on,” she scoffed. “It’s obvious, isn’t it? He calls her _my lady._ He doesn’t even do that to me.”

“I ain’t sayin’ that Howe doesn’t have the ole stiff pinings,” Oghren said, “I’m saying that first of all, she’d never give him the time of day.”

“Aw, she might. I can see the signs already. The _signs,_ Oghren. Remember me and Alistair back in the day? Same thing. Snip snipe, fuck you shem scum, but then the boy gives you a crusty plant and you’re done for. Smitten. Head over heeled. Caboodled.”

“Bah, you’re projecting. The situations are completely different. Ole Oghren knows.” Oghren took a long drink. “Anyway, long before our Nate could ever managed to navigate the prickly hedge maze that would be caboodling Velanna, he’d get  caboodled himself.”

“Pft, by who?”

“What, ain’t it obvious? The mage.”

“What, _Anders?”_ Tabris was so gobsmacked that she almost let her cards show.

Oghren cackled.

“No fucking way,” Tabris scoffed, and finished her drink. “Anders is….and Nathaniel is…it’s ridiculous! Some people see two handsome human men so much as _glance_ at each other, they’re all convinced the two of them are in love. It’s absurd.”

“Heh.” Oghren played a card and won the hand. “Y’know what I think? I think you don’t like the thought of those two because yer jealous.”

“Jealous?” Tabris squawked in indignation. “What would I be jealous of? If I believed in weddings, I’d be married already. I’m attached, Oghren. _Happily.”_

“Really,” Oghren said smugly, “cause I remember, a certain incident from after we got back from skewering that titty darkspawn, and our esteemed Warden-Commander got a little confused about which jokey blond idiot she was caboodling—”

“You don’t remember anything,” Tabris said, rattling the table. “You were passed out drunk.”

“Heh! Sigrun told me.”

Tabris fumed. Sigrun had promised! Damn their bloody dwarven solidarity.

“Human men all look alike to me,” she protested. “And I was drunk, and happy that we were all alive, and all these bloody light-skinned blonde-haired handsome stubble men are practically identical!”

“Really,” Oghren said, “If they all look alike, then how come you just called a certain one handsome?”

“I’m not justifying that with a response,” Tabris said, glowering at her cards. She drew from the deck, which didn’t improve her terrible hand at all. “Anyway, you mark my words, Nathaniel and Velanna will be making out in a broom closet by the end of the month. Bet you anything.”

“Y’know what? I’ll take that bet. We’ll wager our dwarven honor.” He spat on his hand and offered the shake.

Not being a dwarf, Tabris didn’t have any dwarven honor—but then, neither did Oghren.  “You’re on, you ginger little gremlin.”

She slammed down her drink, sloshing corrosive liquid everywhere, spat, and shook.

\--

As a matter of fact, Oghren did get to hear Velanna say _thank you_ with his own nugwax-encrusted ears. She said it to Nathaniel again when he pulled out a chair for her at breakfast.

Tabris spent the entirety of the meal smugly grinning.

“It was _sarcastic,”_ Oghren hissed afterward. “Verbal iron-whatsit!”

“Can’t wait to collect on your dwarven honor,” the Warden-Commander replied. “I wonder what I’ll spend it on.”

“ _Feh.”_

\--

Things were not looking good for Oghren. Nathaniel had called Velanna ‘my lady’ twice that same day, and the second time, her facial expression was only slightly disgusted. And she’d even blushed.

“And this is good?” Justice said uncertainly.

“I think so, yes,” Nathaniel admitted. “I mean, it _is_ an improvement.”

“But,” the spirit said haltingly, “her feelings remain, overall, negative?”

“It’s difficult to say,” Nathaniel said. “Her feelings in general are _always_ negative, so one has to adjust.”

“It seems to me,” said Justice, “that if the object of one’s affections is uninterested, then the just thing to do would be to cease the pursuit.”

“No, Justice, listen,” Nathaniel began exasperatedly, but before he could continue, a third joined their table.

“So!”

The Warden-Commander slammed a tankard on the table before him, and sat down. He startled, blinking at her, although he supposed he should have been used to it by now.

“So,” Nathaniel repeated hesitantly.

“I hear you have got your eye on someone.”

Nathaniel made a noise in his throat. “Whatever Anders has said, it’s not true! When will that bloody rumor finally be put to rest?”

“No, no. Wrong mage.”

“Oh.” Nathaniel sighed. “So it was that obvious, was it.”

“I’d expect more subtlety out of a rogue. I’m disappointed.”

“Sorry, mother.”

Tabris ignored that and went on. “Well, Nate, you’re in luck. I am something of an expert in human-elven relationships. Alistair and I are in blissful domestic union, despite the difficulties involved, so you see—”

“Bah! Don’t you listen to her!” Nathaniel found another tankard being slammed down on the table and another person on the bench. From all the tankard slamming, there was getting to be a lot of ale on the table. Oghren sat perilously close to him, and then, terrifyingly, slung an arm around his shoulders.

“She’s not an expert in jack shit,” Oghren said. “I should know! I was there, the entire time. Or most of it, anyway.”

“Excuse me,” Tabris said icily. “Who invited you?”

“Trust me,” Oghren said. “Y’know what those two were like during the Blight? A feckin’ mess. He gave her a flower and she ran into the woods.”

“Is that true?” Justice questioned.

“Oghren,” Tabris hissed.

Nathaniel snorted, hastily covering his mouth as he beheld the Warden-Commander’s expression. “Really?”

“That’s right! And then she didn’t talk to him for a month! Leliana had to _make_ her.”

“Lies and slander, you wretched dwarf!” Tabris said. “Nobody has ever made me do anything!”

“And then, ho ho,” Oghren went on, his ruddy face stretching into a grin that would not have been out of place on a darkspawn, “then, when they finally got to making the beast with two backs, you wouldn’t _believe_ the thing that happened on the first night. The entire camp was roused when—”

“Oghren, my comrade, one of my dearest and oldest friends,” Tabris said sweetly, “if you speak another word on this subject, your child will be fatherless and your wife a widow.”

Oghren chuckled and drank. “Sure, kid, sure. But anyway, Nate,” he went on, turning again to the archer, “You’re eyeing up the wrong mage. She doesn’t like you, kid! Trust me, ole Oghren has been disliked by enough ladies in his day to know the signs. And Ears? Don’t like you. Sorry, kid. That’s just how it is.”

Nathaniel looked crestfallen, or perhaps disgusted. It was difficult to tell.

“Means nothing,” Tabris sniffed.

“But y’know who _does_ like you?” Oghren said conspiratorially, leaning in. “Why, our very own skirt-wearing Anders! He likes you _lots._ And y’know, between the skirt, the ponytail and the jewelry, he looks close enough to Ears anyway. Ye’d hardly be able to tell the difference.”

“I think there would be a couple differences,” Nathaniel said. “Er, probably.”

“Nathaniel isn’t _interested,_ Oghren,” Tabris said smugly. “Give it up.”

Justice frowned. “Yet Nathaniel was just telling me how a lack of interest is not an indication to cease efforts of pursuit.”

Oghren took a long pull of his tankard and wiped his beard. “So yeah,” he said, “First time the Commander and her boy try to make like a pair of nugs in a rug, the entire camp gets roused when—”

At that point, Tabris launched herself across the table so quickly she was naught but a silver blur, knocking the table over and spilling sour ale everywhere. Nathaniel barely managed to extricate himself from the brawl before he could be drawn in.

He probably should have pulled them apart, but he suddenly had a lot on his mind. Justice would take care of it.

\--

“Frankly, Sigrun, I don’t understand how anyone tolerates them,” Velanna said.

“Men?”

“Humans. Well, human men, also, I suppose.”

Sigrun giggle-snorted. “What have they done to earn your ire this time?”

“What haven’t they done?” The elven woman’s voice was so thick with disdain it was shocking she could speak at all.

“Well, yeah, but you have to be specific,” Sigrun said reasonably. “Otherwise, you can’t complain to me very effectively, can you?”

“I can do whatever I want.”

Sigrun hummed. “I guess that’s true.”

There was a moment of silence.

“What made you think I was talking about men, anyway?” said Velanna.

“Oh, I meant about Nathaniel. You know, what he’s doing. It’s a bit cute, isn’t it?”

Velanna blanched. “Exactly _what_ is cute?”

“You know! He’s trying to _court_ you.”

“He is doing no such thing,” Velanna said, slamming her staff on the ground. “I assuredly would have noticed if he was, and if I had noticed, I would have dissuaded him of such disgusting and ridiculous notions. Does he not realize that I find most humans physically and morally repulsive?”

“You did tell him. He seems to like you anyway.”

“He should cease!”

There was a pause. Velanna spoke haltingly, “So you think it’s cute, do you?” She hesitated. “That _he’s_ cute?”

“Hmm,” Sigrun intoned. “I’d rank him above Anders. I like the earring, but the little noodle arms don’t do it for me—on men, anyway. At least Nate has muscles, and a bit of facial hair.”

Velanna snorted. “As though that is any measure of attractiveness in men. You need only look to Oghren to see that.”

Sigrun paled. “Don’t even joke about that!”

Velanna didn’t apologize, but she had the decency to at least look slightly abashed. “But you _do_ think Nathaniel is cute,” she accused.

Sigrun shrugged. “Sure?”

“Ugh.”

There was another, more pregnant pause. “But really, human men are just alright,” Sigrun said. “Elven women, though!”

Velanna rolled her eyes. “The Commander is well and truly taken. You’ll have no luck there.”

Sigrun turned a wily rogueish look on the other woman. “Aw, Velanna, don’t be coy. You know I don’t mind _your_ noodle arms.”

Velanna blinked once, twice. “I—we—” She blushed furiously. “We will speak no more of this!” She planted her staff in the ground again and made to escape.

“Okay, but remember, I’m not human, _or_ a man!” Sigrun called after her, grinning. “Is this because I sniffed dirt? C’mon, it was only _once!”_

When Velanna was gone, Sigrun departed in the other direction, whistling jauntily. When Sigrun was gone, Lissa, one of the newer warden-recruits, burst out of the supply closet, gasping for air.

She had to tell the Commander about these developments _immediately._

\--

The Warden-Commander was not a tall woman, but she somehow projected tallness even when sitting.  She sat straight-backed and stone faced as Lissa recounted what she had witnessed.

“Thank you, Lissa,” Tabris said tersely. She turned to her scribe, a young Circle mage called Klein. “Did you get all that? ”

“Most of it,” said Klein, scattering sand over the fresh ink. “Would you describe Sigrun’s tone as ‘flirtatious’ or simply  ‘teasing’?”

“It’s a toss-up, ser,” the recruit said seriously.

“Best err on the side of flirtatious,” Tabris instructed. “Thank you again, Lissa. You’ve done well.”

The warden-recruit glowed with pride and scurried out of the office.

Tabris rose and began to pace. “Well, this simply won’t do at all,” she said. “I won’t lose to that dwarf. Not after what he told everyone.”

Klein suppressed a snort, which Tabris graciously elected to ignore. The whole Keep knew by now. It was only a good thing that she was a beloved war hero and revered commander, or else nobody would respect her anymore.

“I’ll have to act swiftly,” she said.

“I could get them drunk,” she mused, “but that might tip the outcome unfavorably.”

“Maybe I could get Anders to work out more. And grow a beard.” She leaned heavily on her desk. “That would solve things, probably. Pair the spares! Yes!”

She sat back down. “You know, back in the Blight, I used to be able to just suggest things to people and they’d bloody well do them,” she said to the scribe. “And now look at me. Pathetic.”

“Sure, mom,” the mage said distractedly, filing the report. “Anything else you need?”

“You can go,” Tabris muttered. “Send Anders in if you happen to see him. I’ll be here a while.”

She was so distracted that she didn’t notice Klein slip the report into his voluminous mage sleeve instead of filing it, and failed to notice entirely his clipped step, or the fact that he did not turn left to his quarters, but instead, right, to the barracks.

He met Oghren there, halfway through his third tankard. Klein cleared his throat.

“Eh?” Oghren grunted in acknowledgement.

“I’ve got something for you,” said Klein, surreptitiously removing the report from his sleeve. When the dwarf reached out for it, Klein neatly stepped away. “Payment first,” he said.

Oghren rolled his eyes and bent to reach under his bunk, producing a bottle of bright blue liquid. “Aqua magus,” he growled. “Was looking forward to it, too, so you better damn well appreciate it. Now, gimme the report, and it better be good.”

Oghren grabbed it, squinting as he read over the neat script.

“Hoo,” he said after a while. “Hoo, hoo, hoo.” He read it again. “Hoo!”

“Acceptable?”  Klein said.

“Oh, I can work with this, alright,” said Oghren. “I can work with this.”

\--

Nathaniel sat unhappily on the balcony, or perhaps it was more accurately called a roof. The gently slanting surface, accessible from one of the east-facing windows had been one of his favorite haunts as a child, where he could sit and sulk away from the servants.

He was sitting and sulking presently, except now that he was an adult, he could sit and sulk with a bottle of grain alcohol.

It was all Oghren’s fault, he thought, taking a swig, and not only because he was the one to have given him the alcohol. It was Oghren’s fault, because he’d been the one to present Nathaniel with indisputable evidence that he was a fool wasting his time.

Maybe he was just lonely.

There was a rap at the window. “Go ‘way,” Nathaniel grunted, appalled at how childish he sounded.

The window slid open. Anders leaned out, leaning his chin on his hand. “Y’know, Nate,” he said, “if you’re trying to escape, you’re doing a real poor job of it.”

Nathaniel grunted.

“Why’re you getting drunk on a roof alone?”

Nathaniel sort of wished he could have claimed it was a broken heart, but that would have been pushing it.

“What do you want?” he said wearily. Why couldn’t the mage just leave him to his sulking?

“Just checking up on you,” Anders said, shrugging. “That boy, the scribe, I forget his name—Kevin?—told me you were up here, possibly about to jump, so I figured I’d better make sure we don’t lose the Commander’s favorite archer. Or, y’know, definitely at _least_ second-favorite.”

“Well, thank you,” Nathaniel said acidly. “Good to know I’ve got someone looking out for me.”

“Sure. Isn’t that what this is all about? This Grey Wardening? It’s like being a family, but without the bonds of blood that make it inappropriate to look upon each other with lust.” He paused. “Well, I guess technically there _is_ a bond of blood, but seeing as it’s darkspawn blood, I don’t think it counts.”

Nathaniel found himself oddly touched. He felt warmed from within, although maybe that was just the liquor in his stomach.

The wind whistled through his hair, barely restrained by the braids at his temples. Anders’ hair did not fare so well, coming loose of its tie and streaming free around his angular face, reddened by the cold wind. He still hadn’t gone, looking at him with the traces of a healer’s concern.

Come to think of it, Anders really was rather handsome. Pretty, even. Nathaniel had always assumed that the mage was simply joking in his attentions, and that any attempt at reciprocation would only leave him the butt of a joke, but now that he really thought about it—there was no reason to think that at all, was there? Even now, as he looked into the other man’s eyes, he could see reflected there a certain—

“Well, anyway!” Anders said. “Seeing as you don’t seem likely to toss yourself off the roof, I’ll just be going, shall I? Wouldn’t want to interrupt your brooding.”

He gave Nathaniel a wink, and disappeared from the window. Nathaniel made a disgusted noise and fell back against the wall.

Anders had probably been joking, anyway.

It wasn’t long before he heard another voice caught in the wind. “Nate?”

He sat up and looked round. “Sigrun?”

“What are you doing up there?” she questioned. “Are you really just ‘brooding’, like Anders said? Because that seems a little ridiculous.”

“No,” he said defensively. “I’m _drinking.”_

Sigrun brightened. “Oh, well, that sounds much better. Can I join you?”

Nate scooted over and gestured. She clambered up the window and settled beside him, shivering slightly in the wind. He wordlessly passed her the bottle. She drank for a solid ten seconds before passing it back considerably lighter. They sat like this in companionable silence for a while.

Sigrun broke it first. “So why are you drinking?”

Nathaniel sighed. “Velanna doesn’t like me, and it’s embarrassing.”

“Velanna doesn’t like anyone.” Sigrun paused, and looked glum. “She doesn’t like me either. Not that I blame her, really…”

Nathaniel bristled. “Well, _I_ blame her! What’s wrong with you, exactly, that she’s too good for you?”

“I’m dead,” Sigrun pointed out.

“A minor flaw!”

“I dunno, Nate, necrophilia is sort of looked down upon in most societies.”

“Don’t tell Justice. He already feels left out.”

She snapped her fingers. “Let’s drink to Justice.”

“To Justice!”

They drank.

“Anyway,” Sigrun said, “you’re not so bad yourself. She’ll come around someday, you’ll see.”

“What, to me and not you? Doubtful. I’m human _and_ a man.”

“Well, fine. Then nobody can come around to anybody, and we can all be alone together.”

“To being alone together!”

They drank again.

“So,” Nathaniel said, wiping his mouth , “Is it…true, what you said about me?”

Sigrun blinked sleepily at him. “What did I say?”

“That I was,” Nathaniel sighed, “cute. Because of my muscles. And my facial hair.”

“Come to—” Sigrun said, “come to think of it, now that you mention it—you _are_ pretty cute.”

“Am I?” Nathaniel said, pleased. Something was buzzing in him. Alcohol, probably.

“Yeah,” Sigrun said slowly, thoughtfully. “Yeah. Although, you could probably stand to grow a fuller beard.”

Nathaniel rubbed at his jaw. “It comes in patchy.”

“Oh, ick. Keep it the way it is, then.”

“Alright.”

“Velanna probably doesn’t like beards, anyway.”

“Oh, who—who cares about Velanna?” Nathaniel said impulsively, blinking through the haze. “I’ve got—I’ve got the most beautiful woman in the Wardens, right here next to me.”

Sigrun broke into a fit of drunken giggling. “You’re _ridiculous,_ and you can’t even grow a proper beard.”

They kissed for a while, and then fell off the roof.

\--

Warden-Recruit Hector stood in the Commander’s office, sweating. “Commander,” he said, “there have been…developments.”

The Warden-Commander looked up from her paperwork. She raised one eyebrow.

“I don’t think you’re going to like this, though,” he went on.

“I don’t like anything,” Tabris said. “Just tell me.”

“Alright. Well.” The recruit took a breath. “I tailed Wardens Anders and Velanna on their trip to Amaranthine, like you said, and I don’t think I was noticed. Although, there were a few close calls with Velanna. And it took me a little while to figure out how to get the rune to work, so I missed some of the talk at the start, but I got all the important bits.”

“What happened, Hector?”

“Weeeeeeell,” he said, twiddling his fingers. “Let me see. Mostly Warden Anders flirted, but I’m pretty sure he was joking, ser, I swear. He flirted with _me_ once and I’m certain he doesn’t even know who I am. And she mostly shot acerbic comments back.”

“So, the usual,” Tabris prompted.

“Right, yeah, the usual. But then Warden Anders launched into an amusing anecdote from the other day, about how he had to heal Warden Nathaniel’s broken arm after he and Warden Sigrun fell off a roof. And how in payment for healing, Warden Nathaniel had to tell him how he fell off a roof, and why Warden Sigrun was there, and how _apparently_ they’d been up there being….involved.”

“ _What?”_   Tabris stood up. “Nathaniel and Sigrun? You’re kidding. _He_ was kidding. One of you has to be kidding!”

“I am not kidding,” the recruit said seriously. “I also do not believe that Warden Anders was kidding, although I grant that it is possible. He does, frequently, kid.”

Tabris rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Well, you were right about me not liking this, but I suppose this was a possibility I had foreseen.”

“That wasn’t actually the bit I thought you wouldn’t like, ser. I actually had assumed you already knew. Warden Anders hasn’t been keeping it a secret, to Warden Nathaniel’s great ire.”

Tabris sat back down. “Well, go on then, man!”

“Right.” The recruit cleared his throat. “Warden Anders finished his amusing anecdote around the time they arrived at the main gates, upon which time I detected Warden Velanna becoming rather incensed. Or, er, more incensed than usual. She demanded details about the liaison repeatedly, becoming more rankled as Warden Anders provided them, until finally he ran out of details to provide. After which she was silent a while, and then declared that she did not care and they could all be taken by the Void. To which Warden Anders said, ‘geez’.”

Tabris kept her gaze steady over her steepled fingers. “And then?”

“Well, not much for a while. It was pretty boring. They either didn’t talk much, or discussed business things. What to buy, where to go. I believe the weather was mentioned. But I persevered. Yes, ser, I did!”

“Excellent work, recruit, but _get to the point.”_

“Right, right, well, after a few hours, there was an incident outside the Chantry. Someone who didn’t have particularly tender feelings towards mages wandering around with no minders, not even wearing robes.”

Tabris went visibly tense. “An incident,” she said. This horseshit again. Just how many roomfuls of Templars would she have to slaughter before people got the hint?

“Nothing major, ser,” Hector assured her. “Just a rude word shouted across a courtyard. I think the fellow that did it even got a few dirty looks from survivors of the siege, people who remembered how Warden Velanna protected them from the darkspawn only a few months back. Warden Anders went all quiet—I think he may have mumbled something bitter under his breath—eh, something about ‘the usual’, I think? But Warden Velanna wasn’t having any of it. She took out her staff and prepared to begin a fight with the ‘foolish ungrateful shemlen’ right there and then.

“Warden Anders tried to stop her,  and said it wasn’t worth it, and that they’d better just keep their heads down. Which Warden Velanna ignored entirely, and proceeded to summon a massive vine from the earth to snatch the offender by the ankle and wave him to and fro in the air, in a comical fashion. A few of the residents of Amaranthine gasped and pointed, but most of them casually looked away and went whistling about their business.

“Unfortunately, the ruckus of the offender’s panicked yelling drew the attention of an a Chantry mother, who emerged onto the front steps of the Chantry and began yelling. I believe she may have said words to the effect of ‘savage’ and ‘sinful magic’ and ‘blight upon the Maker’s earth’. To which Warden Velanna responded by throwing the offending man caught up in her vine _at_ the woman, with deadly accuracy. Following which, several Chantry sisters also emerged from the Chantry, and were treated to a long stream of invective from Warden Velanna. They appeared cowed, and returned to the Chantry without further escalation.

“To which Warden Anders said, ‘Holy shit,’ and then ‘Holy shit,’ again but this time louder and slower, and then a moment after that, ‘I think I might have fallen in love with you just now.’

“To which Warden Velanna replied, ‘Damned fucking right,’ and then proceeded to snatch Warden Anders by the front of his robes and kiss him aggressively for several minutes. At the conclusion of which Warden Velanna marched away to the gates with prim confidence, and Warden Anders followed her like a starstruck kitten. After which I became entangled in a troubling incident with some smugglers and could no longer tail them.”

Tabris sat and stared.

“That concludes my report,” Warden-Recruit Hector said.

“Thank you, Warden-Recruit,” Tabris said faintly.

“Shall I follow up with them, ser? Do you need me to tail anyone else?”

“No, recruit, I don’t think that will be necessary.”

“Yes, Commander.”

“Your requested payment of ten pounds of fine Orlesian cheese has been acquired and delivered to the barracks, recruit.”

“Yes, Commander. Thank you, Commander.”

“You may go.”

“Thank you, Commander.”

Hector went.

Tabris sat at her desk and glared holes into the wall.

She was going to have to make peace with the damned dwarf.

\--

It was storming outside, the roiling of the rain and thunder audible even behind the thick stone walls of the Keep. As agreed, Senior Warden Oghren and Warden-Commander Tabris met at midnight in the foyer of the Great Hall.

Justice sat in witness, as arbiter. And also because, unable to sleep, he didn’t have anything else to do.

“Dwarf,” said Tabris.

“…Elf,” said Oghren.

“It appears that  we are at an impasse.”

“Seems so.”

“I bet that Nathaniel would end up with Velanna. You bet that he would end up with Anders. Neither of those things happened.”

“Yep.” Oghren sniffed and crossed his arms. “Looks like we’re _both_ losers. No dwarven honor for either of us, heh. Well, what can I say. It was a fun go while it lasted.”

“Of course,” Tabris said, “that is only _so_ far.”

Oghren squinted. “Eh? And what do you mean by that?”

Tabris smiled beatifically. “As you know, Oghren, I am very _persuasive_ , and nothing is yet set in stone.”

Oghren bristled and pointed a stubby finger at her chest. “Why, you—well, you’re not the only one who can meddle, y’know!”

“You are not suggesting,” Justice interjected seriously, “to interfere in some manner with the happiness our friends have found within each other? To cause strife amidst that most tender and beautiful of mortal emotions—love?”

Tabris and Oghren looked at each other, then at Justice, then at the floor.

“Course not,” Oghren said.

“That,” Tabris said, “would be wrong.”

Justice smiled. “Yes. I am glad you realize.”

Tabris sighed, and grumbling to herself, extended a hand to Oghren. “Truce, then?”

Oghren clasped it. “Yeah, alright,” he said. “Truce.”

Suddenly, the heavy doors to the foyer flew open, a flash of lightning illuminating the space and drenching the front steps with rainwater. Anders strode in, sopping wet.

“It’s too late!” he declared.

Nathaniel, still in the rain, fell to his knees. “Wait!”

“I will not!” the mage retorted. “How dare you play with my affections?

“No! You have to believe me!”

Anders around on his heel, the dramatic effect of which was lessened by his loose hair flipping around and hitting him in the face. “Never again!” he declared, and then stormed away into the barracks, leaving Nathaniel to flee dejectedly out into the rain.

Neither of them had noticed their fellow Wardens, even though one of them was glowing.

Oghren grinned. “Truce,” he said, “ _over.”_

“Please,” Justice said, “let us just—”

“Oh, and what are you grinning about?” Tabris said. “They’re obviously not getting along.  You’ve as good as lost.”

“He was crying! He _cares!”_

“That was rain, you nughumping—”

“Rain _and_ tears! Hah!”

“You’ll regret this,” Tabris hissed. “Mark my words, you dwarf, _you’ll regret this.”_

And Oghren laughed, and laughed.

\--

Tabris kept watch like a hawk on the situation, and for several days there seemed not to be much change.

It was pretty difficult to tell with Nathaniel and Sigrun. Nathaniel was not an expressive man. Was that _especial_ care that he took, when Sigrun sprained an ankle at training? Was that a _meaningful_ glance he shot her? Was that a hug of simple camaraderie, or a _lingering_ hug? What did it _mean,_ that he let her have the rest of his sandwich that one time?

And Sigrun, openly affectionate as she was, surely would have been hesitant about a relationship. If something serious was going on, then surely she would be tentative in expressions of affection. Or, perhaps, there was nothing at all—hence the absence of non-obvious signs of affection.

Perhaps, Tabris would begin to think, that it had been a one-time tryst after all, with no further effects. But then, where was the awkwardness? Where was the hasty co-avoidance? What sort of ridiculous people didn’t devolve into nonfunctioning messes in the presence of romantic difficulty?

But then, there would be yet another _lingering_ (?!) glance, another _friendly_ (!?) arm squeeze, and Tabris would set to doubting all over again.

And what, exactly, did Sigrun’s grins at Velanna mean? Was this flirtation, or triumph? Victorious bragging, or tentative hope?

Anders and Nathaniel, too, seemed impossibly difficult to read. Anders was as capricious and illusory as Nathaniel was reserved. If he joked and flirted the same as he ever did, the night in the rain completely forgotten, then this was expected. It could have meant everything. It could have meant nothing. Tabris was nearly convinced that she had hallucinated that night, if not for the presence of two witnesses.

(“If you aren’t sure,” Justice had asked, “why can you not simply ask them? Surely, as your friends and subordinates, they would tell you.”

“Oh, Justice,” Tabris had sighed. “Justice, Justice, Justice.” So naïve. So innocent. So pure.)

It was a lot easier to tell with Anders and Velanna, though, because she kept slapping his backside at training, and he kept letting her.

Tabris thought this through, over and over, and sighed. “Seneschal Varel,” she called, “come help me make this chart.”

\--

“So, spill,” said Sigrun. “What’s the deal with you and Nate?”

“Deal?” Anders said. “What deal? I don’t see any deals here. No ser. This is a deal-free zone.”

They were on watch. In peace, vigilance, and all that rot. Mostly the Architect kept the darkspawn in line, so there was hardly anything to watch for. Leave it to the Commander to persuade the darkspawn to stop being so troublesome and leave all her poor Wardens to languish in boredom.

“Falsehood. Lies,” Sigrun proclaimed. “There is a deal.”

“Okay, fine, there might be a deal,” Anders surrendered. “But I’m not going to talk about it.”

“What if I said please?” Sigrun said. “What if I said pretty please?”

“Oh, well, if it’s a _pretty_ please _,_ that just changes everything,” Anders said seriously. “I’ll commence with spilling all my beans now.”

Sigrun’s forehead crinkled. “I don’t see any beans.”

“It’s a figure of speech.”

“Oh. Well.” Sigrun rolled her eyes. Surfacers. “So, are you going to tell me?”

“Look, there isn’t anything much to tell,” Anders said, exasperated. “All it was was some light flirting. Perfectly standard in the Circle. Everyone was kissing everyone! You sort of had to, knowing you could never have anything real or long-lasting. You took what pleasure you could, when you could. So yes, I flirt. What about it?”

“I guess nothing,” Sigrun said. “But…I’m sorry it was like that for you. But you’re out now, right? Not dead or anything, like me.”

“Hah, hah,” Anders said dryly. He paused. “Also, we did sleep together. Twice.”

Sigrun gasped so loudly and deeply that she nearly inhaled a bird.

“Wait.” Anders paused, thinking. “Three times. Yeah, three times.”

“What! Anders, that’s not _kissing!”_

“It’s just really _advanced_ kissing.”

“I—well—I guess you’ve got me there.”

“So, anyway,” Anders said cheerfully, “seeing as we’ve both been there, isn’t the birthmark on his left ass-cheek absolutely _hilarious?”_

Sigrun had to admit that it was pretty hilarious. “If only he could grow a proper beard.”

“I do like beards,” Anders said wistfully. 

“But what I meant by ‘deal,’” said Sigrun, suddenly realizing that she was being distracted, “was the whole bit where you stomped in sopping wet in the rain, shouting about how you’ll never trust him again?”

“Oh, that, hm,” Anders said. “How did you know about that?”

“Justice told me. On Sundays we have a ‘let’s explore the surface’ day. We chat!”

“Of course you do.” Anders tapped his scruffy chin thoughtfully for several long moments. “Well, Sigrun, don’t you know that I’m just dramatic that way?”

“If you’re so dramatic,” Sigrun shot back, “then set that bush on fire.”

Anders threw his hands in the air. “What _is_ it with you and that bush?”

\--

Warden Powell and Warden Kestrel stood on watch. It was peaceful. They were vigilant. It was all very proper, the both of them felt.

“Nice night, eh?” said Powell, about two hours into the shift.

“Yep,” said Kestrel, after allowing a few minutes to determine the actual niceness of the night.

The crickets chirped. The moonlight shone. It was a nice night.

An hour after that, the night lit up with an orange brilliance.

“What’s that?” said Powell.

“Hmm,” said Kestrel, squinting. “Seems that someone’s set that copse of trees on fire.”

“Oh, dear,” said Powell. “Y’think it was the dwarf with his powders, or one of the mages?”

“Doubt it was the elf,” said Kestrel. “Elves like trees, I think.”

“Yeah,” said Powell, nodding slowly .”Yeah, that sounds about right.”

The crickets continued to chirp. The moonlight continued to shine. The trees continued to burn.

“What’s happening now?” said Powell.

Kestrel sighed. Powell was good with a sword and a bow, but he wasn’t all that vigilant, if she was being honest.  “Hmm,” she said, frowning and peering out into the gloom. “I believe that that’s Warden Anders and Warden Sigrun.”

“Ah, I see. So, I suppose, it must have been Warden Anders who set fire to the trees.”

“I think that’s likely, Powell, yes.”

“And it would appear that the both of them are naked.”

“I—oh. Yes. Yes, you seem to be correct on that count. They are both…very naked.”

It was difficult to tell which of the two of them reflected more moonlight—the Circle mage who had spent the past two decades locked in a tower, or the girl who had lived literally her entire life underground. It was a bit of a tossup.

“Dear Maker, what are they doing now? What are _those?”_

“I think…nugs? Yeah, nugs.”

“What, those rabbit-pig things? With the creepy little fingers?”

“Those are the ones.”

“Where did they get them all? Sweet Andraste, they’re running everywhere.”

“Perhaps best not to wonder.”

The crickets went on chirping. The moonlight went on shining. The fire kept on burning. The nugs kept on stampeding.

“Aaaand—yep, there they go. They’re having sex. For, er, at least the second time tonight, I think?”

“Aren’t they going to put out the fire first?”

“I don’t think they are, Kestrel.”

Warden Kestrel sighed. “I suppose that means _we_ have to put out the fire.”

“Ah, you see,” Warden Powell said wisely, “That’s where you’re wrong.”

“And how’s that?”

“Our watch is over,” Powell pointed out. “Some other schmucks are going to have to do that, instead of us.”

“Oh, true.” Kestrel perked up considerably. “Well, we’ll just let them have at it for a while, then.”

They made their way off the battlements and down into the Keep, whistling cheerfully.

“So,” said Kestrel. “You with the Commander or the dwarf?”

“The dwarf,” Powell admitted. “You?”

“I’m with mother.”

“You off to report, then?”

She nodded. “Same as everyone else in this damn Keep.”

Powell sighed. “Any idea how long this is going to go on?”

“You know this Keep,” Kestrel grumbled. “Can’t go a damn month without some manner of nonsense. If you ask me, this is a better kind of nonsense than talking darkspawn everywhere. So I hope it _keeps_ going on.”

Warden Powell had to agree with that.

\--

Later that week, one of Oghren’s goons reported Nathaniel on his knees in front of Velanna upon a grassy hill in the moonlight, presenting her with something, and speaking soulfully at length to her, possibly in verse—and without her even cursing him or calling down lightning on his head.

The next day saw reports on Tabris’s desk concerning Anders and Velanna upsetting an entire supply closet, Sigrun and Nathaniel rendering one of the dungeons unusable, and another of Anders wearing nothing but a slit skirt and some nipple tassels, doing the spiciest of shimmies for the amusement of _somebody—_ here, the reports disagreed exactly on whom.

After that, Tabris and Oghren’s respective goons started getting into altercations in the hallways about whose version was true.

\--

On the fifth of Harvestmere, a delegation of Wardens from Weisshaupt were scheduled to inspect the Keep. Nothing terribly _formal,_  Ferelden’s Commander was assured—just to make sure she was settling in well, that everything was handled, to discuss resource distribution and so on.

Senior Warden Gottilde was not sure what to make of the place. Or its Commander.

On one hand, the allegedly crumbling keep was most certainly not crumbling. The high iron walls were most impressive, and the reinforced gatehouse, and the gleaming silverite armor on every Warden in sight. Sure, there was an occasional crack in a wall apparently being held together with chewing-gum, but overall, most impressive. Senior Warden Gottilde made approving notes in her report as the Warden-Commander of Ferelden showed them around.

“And this,” the Commander of the Grey was saying as they walked past the smithy, “is my armorer, and his husband. They’re in love. And we love them.” The Commander waved cheerfully to the bald smith, who waved back. “And over there is Dworkin, who loves explosions.”

“That’s nice,” Senior Warden Gottilde said, “but there is really no need to introduce us to every single person who helps run your Keep. We only need to see what’s important.”

“Implying that not everyone here is important?!” the Commander humphed, deeply offended. “Barbaric,” she muttered under her breath as she went on.

Senior Warden Gottilde glanced at her assistant Wardens uncertainly. This woman was the Hero of Ferelden? Who stopped a Blight in less than a year, and slew an Archdemon—and _lived?_

Oh, well. Ferelden _was_ a bit of a backwater. Perhaps it made sense that it would have cut-rate heroes. One who was an elf, no less!

The Commander lead them inside the great entrance hall, where the usual throne had been replaced by comfortable chairs and a large desk.

“Business, then,” she grumbled as she settled at it. “Have a seat.”

Senior Warden Gottilde looked about the hall, from the Seneschal beside her (elderly, venerable, approved), to the Warden standing by the ale cask (red, round, approximately dwarven), to the other Warden in the corner (glowing, rotting—

“What in the Maker’s light is that?” Senior Warden Gottilde exclaimed.

“That’s just Oghren,” the Commander said. “Don’t worry, he’s supposed to look like that. And he’s a veteran of the Blight, so have some respect.”

“Not the dwarf! That!” Gottilde said tightly, pointing. “Is that—a possessed corpse?”

The Commander turned her attention to where Senior Warden Gottilde was pointing. “Oh, hm,” she said. “Yes, so it is. But, as we’ve established, it isn’t necessary for me to introduce you to everyone who isn’t important _,_ so why don’t we get on with it?”

The possessed corpse in the suit of armor noticed the Senior Warden’s attention and gave a polite wave. Gottilde collapsed back in the wooden chair and tried to concentrate on the Seneschal’s logistics report. The junior Wardens behind her gave each other frantic glances.

They had moved past logistics and into troop distribution when a half-dressed blond man with an unsettling number of personal piercing burst through the door.

“Anders!” the Commander hissed at him, slamming her quill down. “I told you to _look sharp!_ This is _not_ ‘looking sharp!’”

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll make it up to you,” the man said in a panic, gripping the desk as he leaned over it, out of breath. “What’s important is, don’t believe a word he tells you!”

There was a crash somewhere without. The blond man cast a terrified look over his shoulder and departed at speed.

There was a silence. “My very best mage Warden,” the Commander said proudly. “But, as we’ve established, it isn’t necessary for me to introduce everyone that isn’t important, so as we were saying about troop distribution—”

There was another crash as the same door Anders had entered through slammed open again. There stood another man, his bearing clearly marking him for a distinguished noble. He was even less dressed than the blond, as he was wearing absolutely nothing except a carefully placed pillow.

“Commander,” he said tersely. He nodded to the Commander, to Senior Warden Gottilde, and both her junior Wardens. Then he proceeded, stately and steadily, directly through the door Anders had recently slammed shut. There was steel in his eyes.

“Nathaniel Howe,” the Commander explained. “One of my best and brightest.”

“Clearly,” said one of the junior Wardens, staring after the man’s uncovered backside as it disappeared through the door.

Senior Warden Gottilde had ceased to make careful notes in favor of simply sitting back and fanning herself.

The Warden-Commander hardly even paused when a sudden burst of electricity lit up the west wing of the Keep for a brief moment. The junior Wardens took turns looking nervously towards the west wing and looking nervously towards the possessed corpse. Sometimes, they looked nervously at the enormous Archdemon skull which the Ferelden Commander kept mounted behind her chair.

They were nearly through the business when cracks started to appear in the ceiling. Dust fell from the cracks and landed on the heads of the junior Wardens, who huddled close together in fear. Senior Warden Gottilde ignored this. She was _determined_ to get through this.

It was then that there was an almighty crack and two tattooed women—a dwarf and an elf—fell through the ceiling. They were even less dressed than the previous two, as they were wearing nothing but each other.

“Velanna,” Tabris said in greeting. “Sigrun.” She addressed Senior Warden Gottilde. “Two of my very finest Wardens, but, of course, there’s no need for me to introduce you to people who are not important.”

Velanna stood first, her hands on her hips. Sigrun stumbled up second, giggling helplessly. She kept trying to apologize and then becoming overwhelmed with laughter, and then attempting to apologize for laughing.

Velanna glared imperiously around the room. “Stop staring at once!” she hissed, imbuing her words with such power that  everyone immediately looked away, even Oghren.

A massive growth of vines appeared from the ground, swallowing both herself and Sigrun. When everyone looked back, they were gone, along with one of the junior Wardens.

“Oh, dear me,” said Tabris. “Well, I certainly hope he wasn’t important _.”_

“I—” Senior Warden Gottilde began, and was interrupted by the dwarf

“Y’see that?” he cackled. “Y’ _see?”_

“I didn’t see anything,” Tabris said primly. “Except the tail end of a very bad lay.”

“And you’d know a thing or two about bad lays,” he snorted.

“Not nearly as much as _you,_  my well-experienced friend,” Tabris said sweetly. “I’m sure there’s reams and reams of things about bad lays that I’ll never experience.”

“Yer jus’ mad cos I’m gonna win.”

“Nugshit,” the Commander said with confidence.

“Ye _saw_ Ears and Siggy—did they look like they were having a bad lay?”

“Immaterial,” said Tabris. “The wager had nothing to do with Sigrun and Velanna. The subject at hand was clearly _Nathaniel._ And  seemed very displeased with Anders at that moment. Oh, yes. Very displeased indeed.”

“One implies the other,” the dwarf insisted.

Ferelden’s Commander of the Grey turned to Senior Warden Gottilde. “You saw them,” she said. “Although, I realize, they were likely not important enough to warrant your notice—but you certainly wouldn’t say that the two gentlemen seemed happily in love, did they?”

“I,” said Senior Warden Gottilde, looking with weary eyes upon the enormous archdemon skull mountain just behind the Warden-Commander’s chair. “I suppose not.”

“There, you see?” Tabris said. “Such an important personage could not possibly be mistaken.”

“Bah.” The dwarf waves a meaty hand dismissively. “Delusional is what you are. Your two ain’t even looked at each other in weeks.”

“I’ll have you know,” Tabris said, drawing herself up to her full, insignificant height, “that I have written reports exactly to the contrary.”

They carried on in that vein, voices rising in volume until the others in the room took out sets of earplugs and earmuffs and donned them, as though this was a regular occurrence. Senior Warden Gottilde looked between the commander, the skull, and her single remaining junior Warden. Then she rose and nodded politely, and noted carefully in her report that the Grey Wardens of Ferelden were in excellent hands, and that there was no need for anyone to come by and check on them. Ever.

\--

“I’m not sure I understand,” said Justice.

“It ain’t just you, corpsey,” Oghren muttered. It was late. Tabris and Oghren had given up feuding at the moment just to cross-reference their information. It had become unavoidable.

“Let me try and explain,” Tabris said wearily, shuffling the papers around and squinting. “Seneschal Varel helped me make this chart.”

Justice folded his leathery hands in his lap and patiently awaited the explanation.

“So everything began with Nathaniel’s confirmed romantic interest in Velanna,” said Tabris, pointing to the top of the chart. “Which she appeared to not return, until further information gleaned from conversation with Sigrun muddied the water. In this same conversation, Sigrun’s (possibly joking) sexual interest in Velanna became clear. Which she also appeared to not return. Following which, due to _someone’s,”_ here, she glared at Oghren, “meddling, Nathaniel became convinced that his own interest was hopeless—”

“Which it bloody well was!”

“—and so, he found drunken comfort in the equally rejected-feeling Sigrun.”

Tabris pulled out another sheaf of paper. “Which Anders discovered, and relayed to Velanna—who, out of probable jealousy—”

“Conjecture!”

“—began a probably-sexual relationship with Anders, who himself had an established sexual interest in Nathaniel.”

Justice frowned and slowly nodded.

“At this pointed,” Tabris said seriously, shuffling her papers about, “things seemed settled, if surprising.”

“Until,” broke in Oghren, “until, we witnessed with our own peepers the drama of Nosey and Skirt-Boy.”

“You’re really bad at nicknames,” Tabris said with disgust. “Anyway, with the indistinct potential of Anders and Nathaniel still on the line, things no longer seemed so settled—though Anders and Velanna, at least, certainly still seemed involved, and potentially Sigrun and Nathaniel as well.”

“Until,” Tabris sighed, “reports trickled in of Sigrun and _Anders’_ sexual entanglement. Which proved ever the more confusing for Velanna’s absolute lack of jealousy—not at all characteristic of her. So either she does not know—unlikely—or does not care! And though it is feasible that she simply does not care about Anders much, this still seems odd to me.”

“And then of course,” she went on manically, “we have the other day, which confirmed the sexual-romantic entanglement of Sigrun and _Velanna,_ and heavily implied the sexual entanglement of Anders and Nathaniel, though it cast into deeper shadow yet their _emotional_ entanglement.”

She looked from sheet to sheet, her dark eyes darting frantically. “And that was all after the heavy indications of Nathaniel and Velanna’s more explicitly romantic entanglement, as well as many grueling days of trickling-in reports confirming the continuing activities of several other pairs.”

She scattered all the papers to the ground and collapsed in her big chair. “So who exactly the fuck is in love with who!”

“We-ell,” said Oghren. “Could be that nobody’s in love with anybody, and that they’re all just fuckin’ each other for the good times.”

“Horny bloody wardens,”  Tabris grumbled, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “We should probably have been more specific about what we were betting on.”

“Truly the romantic lives of mortals are complex indeed,” mused Justice. “Perhaps it is wrong of me to be so interested in matters unrelated to my purpose, but I confess I am…fascinated.”

“I’m not,” Tabris retorted. “I’m bloody _annoyed._ And I can’t afford to keep bribing my informants. Some of them are getting greedy.”

“Ye sure can’t,” said Oghren. “Especially on account of half of them are my double agents anyhow.”

“They’re what _?”_

“I will go,” said Justice with resolve, “and locate our friends, and ask them for clarification. I will report to you my findings.”

“That’s nice, Justice,” Tabris said as he clanked away, and then immediately rounded on Oghren. “The hell do you mean, double-agents? You mean besides the ones that were actually _triple_ agents?”

“Why you elf,” Oghren threatened. “I’ll have yer elven honor for this!”

At which point they devolved into a series of increasingly pointless contests of skill and strength, at which Tabris cheated heavily—although less successfully the drunker she got—until Justice finally returned.

Tabris and Oghren paused in their thumb war to look at him.

Tabris coughed. “Well, Justice?” she said.

Justice was silent.

“Did you manage to find them?”

After a little while, Justice nodded. “Yes,” he said. “I did.”

Tabris suddenly felt apprehensive. “And,” she said, “what did you learn?”

Justice, again, spent a long, heavy moment in complete silence, his flickering blue gaze directed at the floor. “A lot,” he said eventually. “I have learned…quite a lot, about mortal behavior and anatomy. More…much more…than Kristoff ever knew, in his married life with Aura. I think I must go and consider it heavily. Thank you, my friends. I will speak with you again later.”

He clanked away, the rattling of his armor slowly becoming more and more distant, until even the echoes faded away entirely.

Tabris looked at Oghren. Oghren looked at Tabris. Slowly, they disengaged from their thumb war.

They looked down at the flagstones, and then again at each other, and then at the  bottle they’d been drinking from, then towards the doorway Justice had exited through.

There was a long and heavy silence.

“Did,” Tabris said, her voice dropping like lead on the ground, and echoing spiritually through the air itself, “Did they fuck a corpse?”

Oghren hurriedly made to finish the bottle.

\--

Tabris was a woman who had faced horrors beyond most people’s imagination. Darkspawn. Ghouls. Slavers. Werewolves. Demons. Abominations. The Archdemon. _Talking_ darkspawn. Salesmen. The list went on.

Even before her Extremely Eventful Year, Tabris had grown up dirt-poor and reviled, resorting to violent crime to provide for her family. She had first killed a man at age twelve. She could—and had—stared a dragon in the eye, and spat in its face.

Tabris had nerves of steel and silverite. She was unflappable. She could not be flapped. Not even by the suggestion that between one and four of her friends/subordinates had possibly fucked a corpse.

And then.

It was breakfast. Breakfast was oatmeal. Tabris took hers with salt. She was usually up early, and as a result, was nearly alone at the breakfast table.

Velanna came downstairs. She helped herself to the oatmeal, and to a selection of fruits. Breakfast proceeded peacefully for several minutes.

“I,” proclaimed Velanna, “am getting married.”

Tabris paused with her spoonful of oatmeal halfway to her mouth. She looked at Velanna. Velanna looked back at her.

“And who,” the Commander said eventually, “are you marrying?”

Velanna drew herself up, suddenly offended. “That’s a rather personal question!” she said, voice up an octave. “I’m allowed _some_ things to myself, am I not?!”

She gathered up some of her fruit and exited the breakfast hall to the training grounds without another word.

Tabris stared into her oatmeal for a long, long time. Then, she heavily considered the benefits of having a stroke.

\--

There was a crash outside the window.

“What was that?” Sigrun said.

“The Commander, I think,” Nathaniel said. “She’s been unwell all of today.”

“Since the morning, I’d imagine,” Velanna said.

There was a flare of light as a questionably brewed concoction exploded somewhere out in the night. The Warden-Commander appeared to be working off some frustration.

“Seems dire,” said Anders.

“You should see Oghren,” said Nathaniel. “He’s been under various tables for three days now, at least. Wonder what’s troubling him.”

Everyone sniggered.

The bed was pretty crowded. Only intended for one, perhaps two at most, fitting four was a challenge. It had taken nearly an hour to figure out the ideal naked cuddling configuration that everyone could be happy with, what with there being sixteen sweaty limbs involved.

“Maybe we should tell them,” Sigrun said, running her fingers through Velanna’s loose hair.

“Oh, by doing this in _her_ bed next time?” Anders suggested, nestled comfortably between Sigrun’s chest and Nathaniel’s thighs. “I bet you get a pretty big bed, if you’re the Commander. Y’think they’d give me a bed that big if _I_ slew an Archdemon?”

“No!” Nathaniel said, coloring, at the same time that Velanna made an intrigued “Hmmm” from her position sprawled across his stomach.

“I mean,” Nathaniel said, “They’ll have to figure it out eventually, right? I mean, we even told Justice all about it.”

“I think he felt left out,” said Sigrun.

“Quick, someone get possessed,” Anders said. “We could make this even _more_ complicated without even having to make the bed more crowded!”

 Velanna flicked his ear irritably, but she seemed to be seriously considering it.

“You know, this would be a right nightmare to coordinate back in the Circle,” Anders said. “You could barely manage to get a second person involved, let alone a third and fourth. Have I mentioned recently how much I love being a Grey Warden?”

“Yes,” Nathaniel said. “Just an hour ago, extolling the virtues of Warden Stamina.”

“What virtues?” Velanna said irritably. “I’m still sore.”

“Maybe you should have been more vigilant,” Sigrun suggested.

“What?”

“You know, the Grey Warden motto,” Anders said. “In war, victory. In peace, four-way sex.”

Nathaniel frowned, his brow furrowing. “I’m somewhat certain that that’s not the actual Grey Warden motto.”

“Maybe,” said Sigrun, “maybe it should be?”

They all lay there, happily entangled, considering whether maybe it should be.

“We’ll tell the Commander tomorrow,” said Nathaniel firmly.

“Right,” said Sigrun.

“Yeah,” said Anders.

“Tomorrow,” said Velanna.

Somewhere in the distance, another bomb went off.

**Author's Note:**

> i hate this because i started it back in june but i love it bc its finally done and deserves to exist
> 
> [my tumblr](http://wombuttress.tumblr.com/)   
>  [my oc blog. more tabris here.](http://pile-of-dragon-filth.tumblr.com/tagged/alrian%20tabris)


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